


Rheumatism

by leepala



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: M/M, morning fluff, old men being old men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:07:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8007370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leepala/pseuds/leepala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Jeremy thinks he's getting too old for this</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rheumatism

Jeremy groans with deep discontent. He shifts, sheets rustling around him, and for all intents and purposes he ought to be completely comfortable. A late and lazy morning, in his own bed, on his own Egyptian cotton sheets, the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen.

He is definitely anything but. He stretches his legs and winces.  _ Jeremy, you old idiot _ , he chides himself.  _ You are an ancient and broken man.  _ Easy enough to remember in the morning, but why couldn’t he get that fact to stick in his thick skull late at night? There is tight pain singing through every single muscle from the waist down, and quite a few of the ones above, as well. 

It had all seemed a  _ grand _ plan at the time, having James prop him up on pillows and let him take as long as he’d like opening him up. Bracing his forearms beneath his head to push himself back onto James’ slick fingers, let him work at it until Jeremy was quite sure he was going to actually die. And then it had definitely been a move of grand bravado for Jeremy to roughly shove James down on his back, straddle over him and lean heavily on his arms and tell James how he was going to ride him hard. James had raised a slight fuss over Jeremy’s back, but he shut up fairly quickly when Jeremy roughly took hold of his cock, pumped it a few times solely to stop James from prattling on. And when Jeremy flashed him a feral grin and sunk down heavily on his cock, there wasn’t an ounce of protest left in him.

Jeremy honestly can’t decide if it was worth it. Probably so, but it’s awfully hard to judge at the moment. He takes a moment to categorize his pains: his legs, mostly. Christ. He’s entirely too old to be riding a cock all night, what the fuck was he thinking? Every strain of muscle from hip to knee aches deeply. His arms, as well. And his arse, of course, God almighty. And.. are those bruises? On his hips? Jesus Christ.

“Morning,” James sing-songs, interrupting Jeremy’s mental tally. He shoulders the door open as his hands are occupied with two cups, a tea and a coffee - entirely too cheerful a presence for Jeremy’s current state of self-depreciation.

“I hate you,” Jeremy responds, moving to sit up and instantly regretting it. “You’ve completely ruined me. Broken every muscle in my body. Call Andy and tell him I’m never coming to work again, and order a full body cast for me.”

James chipperly ignores him, setting the tea on the bedside table and sitting on the bed with the coffee, waiting for Jeremy to stop complaining and sit up. “Shame,” James says mildly, propping an extra pillow behind Jeremy’s back as he works his way up. “Guess I’ll throw out my plans for the evening, then.” Jeremy shoots him a glare, snagging the cup of from his hands. James trails after it, leaning in to plant a kiss on Jeremy’s temple. “If I draw you a hot bath, will it stem the endless whinging I’m bound to be hearing all day?”

Jeremy sulks behind the rim of his mug. “Perhaps. A bit.”

James grins, leaning in for a proper and coffee-flavored kiss. It doesn’t help much, as Jeremy harrumphs at him as he withdraws. James, cruel bastard he is, pinches lightly at one of the faint bruises on Jeremy’s hip as he stands and heads toward the en suite, ignoring the howl of protest he gets in response. “Well you were certainly pleased with yourself last night. I  _ told _ you your back--”

He’s cut off as a launched pillow smacks him square in the face. “You’re supposed to be drawing me a bath, not giving me a lecture.”

Jeremy only just catches the mischievous grin on James’ face before he darts back to the bed. “NO NO NO NO,” Jeremy’s already protesting, as James launches his offensive: feather-light fingertips across his ribs, open mouth pressed beneath his ear, at the hinge of his jaw. James settles himself on top of Jeremy, despite his squirming. “I’m broken!” Jeremy squawks, shoving uselessly at James. “You utter bastard!”

James relents, rolling to the side, grinning broadly. “Please,” he says, “You love it.”

And that’s the damnedest part to Jeremy - he does. He loves this idiot old man sprawled on the duvet next to him, with his flushed cheeks and rats nest hair and shit eating grin. He loves feeling the singing ache left behind, a physical proof left to remind him of how much he means to James. He does indeed love it, very much.

His expression must have gone soft, because so has James’. He reels in to kiss Jeremy’s jaw, soft mouth against raspy morning stubble. “Bath,” he says with a nod, sliding off the bed and successfully making it to the en suite this time.

A minute later Jeremy lays listening to the rush of water and to James tunelessly humming something that bounces around the bathroom tile. He leans back, lightly thumping his head on the headboard, and considers just how far gone he is on this old, slow spaniel. Absolutely worth it. 


End file.
